


Singing Home

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Hobbitpile, M/M, Nonmonogamy, One of My Favorites, Other, Singing, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry and Pippin make certain Frodo celebrates the night of Sam and Rosie's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing Home

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write this for my birthday present, but instead it's for [](http://karadin.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://karadin.livejournal.com/)**karadin**'s Valentine's Day Threesome Challenge, and it works better for that anyway.
> 
> Also, the songs used were provided by [](http://serai1.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://serai1.livejournal.com/)**serai1**, who is resourceful and nifty.

Title: Singing Home  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Frodo/Merry/Pippin  
Other Pairings Mentioned: Sam/Rosie, Frodo/Sam/Rosie

 

Pippin didn't usually think of himself as one of the two tallest hobbits in the Shire. Obviously, the fact had struck him when he came home and his tall Da had looked up at him; it struck him every time he stooped to accept a kiss from an admiring tween or lift a hobbit-child into his arms for a squeeze. And it struck him now, as his height gave him an unimpeded view, across rows and rows of flower-and-ribbon-bedecked heads, of Frodo's lovely, pale, wistful, happy face, as Frodo watched Sam and Rosie Cotton mark their marriage with a kiss.

Pippin glanced over at the other tallest hobbit, Merry, to see his storm-grey eyes focused on Frodo, his brows drawn down with a little double wrinkle between them. As if feeling Pippin's gaze, Merry glanced over, and the tilt of his mouth was rather too sad to be a smile, but when he winked Pippin understood and grinned agreement.

So they sang the new couple home to Bag End, cheering and shouting bawdy comments till Rosie blushed pink and Sam blushed red; they linked arms with Frodo, strolled him down with them to the _Green Dragon_, and settled him between Merry and Freddy, with Folco on the far side. Pippin sat on Freddy's other side, missing his warm bulk as they leaned together. Freddy's clothes hung loosely on him now, his arms and shoulders hard and narrow; even so, he was here and laughing, at the center of a growing knot of hobbits gathering to buy them drinks and share their merriment, and after this past year that was better than good.

Frodo wasn't laughing, just smiling that same bittersweet smile, but Pippin and Merry could make things better yet. "I've a song!" Pippin cried above the din; Merry's eyes flashed silver, and Pippin winked at him, but he watched Frodo's calm blue eyes when he drew a breath and began, "_I was born of Buckland parents..._"

A general shout went up. "Pippin!" Merry roared, showily flinging himself forward; Frodo and Folco laughed in surprise as they caught his arms, and the sight of Frodo laughing made Pippin almost want to weep. Instead he grinned wider, singing louder. "_I was born of Buckland parents/ One day when I was young/ That's how the Brandy dialect/ Became my native tongue..._" Merry strained towards him, growling dramatically, and Frodo wound both arms round Merry's, pressed his cheek to Merry's shoulder and laughed like a tween. Scrambling onto the table, Pippin swayed towards Merry, who thrashed far more lightly than he could have and winked when no one but Pippin would see. "_That I was a pretty baby/ My mother, she would vow/ The lasses ran to kiss me/ Oh, I wish they'd do it now!_"

Pippin kissed Merry's cheek as everyone else took up the chorus, clapping hands and stomping feet and banging on the tables. "_Oh, I wish they'd do it now/ Oh, I wish they'd do it now/ I've got itches in me britches/ And I wish they'd do it now!_" Rising up on his knees, Pippin threw his arms wide as Merry swiped at him and everyone cheered. "_Well, when I was only six months old/ The lasses handled me/ They'd clutch me to their bosom/ And they'd bounce me on their knee..._" Pippin broke off singing to call "hold him, lads!" and was gratified to watch Frodo and Folco tighten their hold, to hear Merry shout, "Pippin, augh! No!" even as his eyes twinkled. "_They would rock me in the cradle/ And if I made a row/ They'd tickle me, they'd cuddle me/ I wish they'd do it now!_" Pippin tickled Merry's sides thoroughly; Frodo laughed and kissed Merry's brow as Merry writhed and rolled his eyes and swore loudly. The chorus faltered a bit as the hobbits listened in wonder to oaths Merry had learned in Rohan and Gondor; Frodo chided, "such a mouth!" and kissed Merry to quiet him, and Pippin kissed both their cheeks, then sat back on his heels and turned to Freddy.

Freddy blinked in surprise when Pippin held a hand out, and Pippin had to tug hard to help him, but he climbed up to join Pippin for the next verse; meanwhile Merry acted somewhat resigned, sagging into Frodo's arms, and Frodo laughed through his hair. "_Well, the Marish lasses called for me/ To swim when it was mild/ Down to the river we would go/ And splash about a while/ They would throw the water over me/ And duck me like a cow/ Then they'd rub me nice all over,_" and Pippin waggled his eyebrows lasciviously,"_Oh, I wish they'd do it now!_"

"_Oh I wish they'd do it now,_" the hobbits sang, while Pippin climbed to his feet and pulled Freddy up with him to dance; past Freddy's laughing breathless face Pippin could see Merry smiling and Frodo looking nearly as young as he ever had. Then it was the last verse, and everyone hushed, or at least as much as tipsy hobbits might; Pippin stood up straight, only swaying a little as he sang to Merry and to Frodo, who quivered together with suppressed laughter. "_Well, it's awful lonely for a lad/ To lead a single life/ I think I'll go to the dance tonight/ And find myself a wife..."_ Pippin sang slow and mock-serious and echoing-clear, watching Frodo's eyes shine. "_Oh, I have got six brindle pigs/ Likewise one big fat sow---_"

And everyone roared around him till the sound almost lifted him from the table, and Frodo sang along, laughing and carefree, and Pippin's heart hurt with joy. "_There'll be plenty love and bacon/ For the lass who'll have me now!/ For the lass who'll have me now, For the lass who'll have me now/ There'll be plenty love and bacon/ For the lass who'll have me now!_"

Amidst much cheering and banging of mugs, Merry surged from Frodo and Folco's hold to grab Pippin's knees and tumble him down onto the table; the breath knocked from him more by laughter than by the fall, Pippin struggled most ineffectually as Merry dragged him into his lap and ruffled his hair. "I'll get you for that, you Took," Merry growled, eyes full of laughter; Pippin laughed and wriggled for reply, leaning back to drape an arm round Frodo's neck. "There's plenty of bacon," he murmured against Frodo's cheek. "Come back with us?"

Frodo turned his face against Pippin's, so their eyes met; his were calm again, blue and clear as the Mirrormere by Moria had been. "For tonight," he said, and the soft finality of his voice made Pippin ache. Pippin drew breath to argue for more, but Merry covered his mouth with two fingers, the scar on the longer one bumping and sliding along his lip. "Tonight is good," Merry replied, deep and soft, but by the time Pippin turned his head Merry was smiling again, in fact grinning, his voice again loud and cheerful. "You must see my revenge on Pippin."

"You'll have to catch me first," Pippin retorted with his widest grin, watching Merry's eyes shine, listening to Frodo laugh.

 

*^*

 

In trying to be first undressed, Pippin got caught in his shirt. Merry was warm and hale that night, so his buttons didn't give him trouble, and he could take advantage of Pippin's tangle to lunge at him and wrestle him down across the bed. Half-dressed and on the bed, Frodo laughed as he watched them; doubtless he knew their flailing was a show for him, but he still seemed to enjoy it, so Merry kept it up and Pippin threw himself into it, wriggling provocatively when Merry hauled him across his lap.

Sword hand pressing firmly down on the small of Pippin's back, Merry paused for a moment, tracing freckles and scars. This from an orc's whip, that from a stone he'd fallen upon when the troll crushed him.... Pippin stilled and looked up over his shoulder. "Merry?"

"Just thinking of what I'm going to do to you, Pip," Merry replied, sliding his hand over a nether cheek. Pippin gave a pleased sigh, pushing into the caress, and Merry grinned, pulled his hand up, and delivered a loud smack. Pippin's yelp was satisfyingly louder. "That's for singing that ludicrous song," Merry announced.

Pippin was back in the game, flailing for all he was worth; Frodo was silent, but Merry could feel his gaze, his smile. "You _taught_ me--- hoy!" Another smack to that round firm bottom, and Merry's hand tingled with it. "For singing it in _public_."

Pippin snorted. "Are you going to beat me for all the verses?" His voice shook a little, his head hanging down, and Merry stroked his back; Pippin tossed his head up, winking a shining eye, and Merry grinned. "I should add a stroke for every _line_," he replied, delivering one to the other cheek, which was noticeably cooler. Pippin jerked, gasping, and dropped his head again. "But I spoil you, Pippin. Dreadfully." Another, to springy flushed flesh, and Merry couldn't resist rubbing his hand over it, feeling heated blood rising to the surface, and so-coincidentally pushing Pippin's hips against his thigh. "Four verses." On the next spank Pippin shuddered; Merry could feel damp and hardness prodding him, could smell sweet-salt rousedness, and smiled. "So four for that." Pippin moaned, not quite loudly enough to drown out a small pleased sound from Frodo. "And two to grow on." One to each cheek, and Pippin cried out sharply, hips thrusting against Merry's thigh; Merry stroked his back again, waiting for his quivers to settle enough to roll him back onto the bed.

Frodo leaned forward then. "I hardly think either of you needs to grow more," he said, rising up on his knees to pull off his breeches. "In any way." Frodo slid a hand over Pippin's glowing-hot rump, and Pippin sucked in a breath and trembled more; the breath emerged on a moan as Frodo's hand stroked further, up over the small of Pippin's back to join Merry's. "Can you turn over, Pip?"

Pippin took another breath, got his feet beneath him, and launched himself up and back before either of them could slow him; Merry winced sympathetically at his hiss when he hit the bed. "I feel like a drum!" Pippin complained, but the effect was rather ruined by his wide smile, not to mention his prick hard right up along his belly; Merry drew one finger up the underside, slowly to feel him shake, and said, "yes, you look miserable indeed."

With his other hand Merry reached for his thigh, but Frodo got there first, licking at the dampness Pippin had left, and it was Merry's turn to gasp and shudder, his own prick twitching harder at the heat of Frodo's tongue on his skin. Frodo raised his head to grin at his expression, and Merry realized his mouth hung open; wrapping his arms round him Merry hauled him up for a kiss that tasted of Pippin, of Merry himself, and of Frodo, of all three of them.

Pippin sighed to watch them kiss, then sighed differently, plaintively, and Merry chuckled and pressed the kiss deeper; Pippin huffed some very loud breaths and cleared his throat, and they both chuckled and broke the kiss. "Lonely?" Frodo asked, glancing over his shoulder; Pippin was up on his elbows, looking discontent. "Neither of you is _touching_ me," he complained.

"I might spank you some more," Merry offered, and Pippin's eyes and mouth went round, but Frodo laughed and shook his head, soft curls brushing Merry's face. "No, I have another idea." Merry managed to kiss the side of Frodo's throat and feel him sigh before he disentangled himself; settling between Pippin's knees, Frodo slid his hands beneath, and they both hissed. Frodo looked up, as if he would say something, and Pippin looked at him, but instead he plunged down, and Pippin groaned and fell back against the bed, and it was Merry's turn to watch.

Watch he did, as Frodo wrapped his hands round Pippin's hips, holding them still, as he bobbed his head and Merry could see the outline of Pippin's prick bumping his cheek, as Pippin clenched his hands in the sheets and thrashed his head and wailed. "Oh, yes, oh _please_," Pippin cried between high, almost hurt-sounding moans, and Merry watched, transfixed, for a long breathless moment.

Then he noticed Pippin groping blindly towards him, gasping with eyes pressed shut and throat arched, and realized as he grasped Pippin's hand that his had been wrapped round himself. He hadn't even noticed, he was so absorbed in watching, but now his prick twitched, sending a forceful reminder of its presence rippling through him. Pippin clutched his hand, tangling their fingers, reaching for him with the other, and Merry was effortfully unwrapping his fingers from around his demanding prick as his body fought him, when another hand wrapped round him, three fingers pushing his four away.

Merry laughed and moaned and slumped forward, letting Pippin drag him into a hard gasping kiss. So Frodo wanted them both? That could happen, that _should_, but not quite like this, not with Frodo reducing them both to quivering pools of pleasure while he stayed almost aloof and doubtless thought far too much. Pippin began tangling his fingers into Merry's hair, but Merry gently pushed his hand away, pulling himself free with an effort while Pippin clung to him and his body strove to drag him back. Reaching to stroke Frodo's cheek, Merry shuddered when he felt Pippin _through_ it, and Frodo pulled up, turning curious eyes on him as Pippin cried out disapproval. "Yes?" Frodo asked with wet, reddened lips, and Merry just _had_ to lean over and kiss him, licking those lips, licking the taste of Pippin off his tongue. He almost forgot why he'd stopped them before he could pull away. "I, I had an idea, a better idea."

"It had better be," Pippin demanded, curling his hand round Merry's wrist to tug him over for another kiss, and Frodo gave his prick a squeeze that sent a crackle up his spine. "Oh, it is," Merry murmured over Pippin's mouth, feeling it curve up beneath his before he took another kiss. "It is. But you both must let go of me."

They both looked gratifyingly disinclined to do so, and Merry could only find the will to disentangle himself by telling himself that it would be worth it. He had to get off the bed entirely to reach the dinner tray, and that was _not_ easy, not when Frodo slid up and Pippin wriggled down, wrapping his legs round Frodo's waist as they kissed. Ignoring the moans and murmurs, Merry found the butter-dish, made himself take the time to cut the remaining butter up, and brought it back with him.

Frodo's head was turned towards Merry, eyes pressed closed and lids fluttering as Pippin laid little bites along the curve of his ear. "I do hope," he said, voice just a bit unsteady, "you don't want us to stop again, Merry."

"Oh, no," Merry said, climbing back into the bed, planting a kiss on Frodo's shoulder on the other side from the scar. "No, you're right where I want you to be." Mashing a butterpat into his fingers, Merry tucked his hand between them and found their cocks lined up and sliding against each other; wrapping his buttery hand around them both he couldn't restrain a grin when they both gasped. "A grand idea indeed," he said triumphantly, watching their mouths fall open, as Pippin's head fell back and Frodo's brow fell to Pippin's breastbone. Frodo's eyes rolled beneath the lids, and Pippin's mouth worked as if he had a retort, but neither of them could say anything, and Merry could almost have remained like that, jerking them both in a warm slippery grip till they both peaked in his hand.

Almost, but _his_ prick was still throbbing-hard, insistently reminding him of how rousing his cousins were and how much it too needed attention. Merry pulled his hand back, and they slumped against each other; Frodo panted, his tongue finding Pippin's nipple, and Pippin whimpered when he licked it. Another butterpat, and when Merry slid his hand between them this time he angled it between Pippin's cheeks to slick him; Frodo felt what he was doing and pushed with his thigh, and Pippin arched and bore down and Merry's two longest fingers slipped in almost not by his own will. "Wanton," Merry said lovingly, and Pippin nodded and gasped and grinned and shuddered, hot and tight around Merry's fingers, and how Merry wished he'd used the other hand so he might lean over to kiss Pippin.

He wasn't going to last, the blood already pounding in his ears. Easing his fingers out, he slid his hand up to wrap it round Frodo's prick and guide him, and Frodo huffed a laugh. "Merry, I, oh, I have done this before---"

"I know, Frodo, you're the one who taught me." Merry kissed Frodo's shoulder again, feeling his tremble and groan as he sank into Pippin, who keened his approval and drew his knees higher, draping one over Frodo's shoulder. Merry's beautiful cousins, more so now than ever, tangled in each other, and part of him wanted to sit back and stroke himself slowly and watch.

But a larger part wanted to join them.

So Merry pulled himself back and got to his knees, stroking Frodo's back and kissing the long scar in several places, as he stroked him from the base of his spine to his eggs with a well-greased finger. Frodo's lids flew up over eyes open but unseeing, and though Pippin's head was tipped back Merry could see his hands pushing on Frodo's shoulders, supporting him. "Merry?" Frodo asked, brow wrinkling, and now his voice shook indeed.

"Frodo, I," Merry managed, as his mouth went unexpectedly dry. The gorgeous sight of them together almost seared his eyes, his coherence burning up in the fire in his veins. "Frodo---"

But Frodo's brow smoothed, and he turned his gaze on Merry, and he smiled. "Yes," he said, the word tingling through all of Merry, not just his ears; he was greased and up and over and pushing into his cousin before he could even think, likely too hard and fast, but Frodo tipped his head back against Merry's shoulder and groaned and pushed to meet him, and Merry distantly heard himself groan as he leaned forward, sinking in, hands twisted in the sheets, chasing fire, chasing pleasure, his vision hazing over.

Pippin cried out as Merry pushed Frodo into him, winding his arms round Frodo's neck as Frodo sank shaking to his elbows and buried his hands in Pippin's hair. Pippin's hands reached up, stroking Merry's shoulders and throat and face, and Merry turned his head to kiss them; he clutched the sheets and pulled back and pushed, and all three of them wailed as if with one voice. Pippin drew Merry's head down, and they kissed over Frodo's shoulder, tongues tangling; Frodo turned his face towards them, cheek sliding over cheek, and Pippin kissed his mouth while Merry kissed his cheek and ear, pulling back gasping to watch them. The heated ecstasy of it, sunk in Frodo and feeling Pippin through him, was quite enough to drive Merry wonderfully mad, but if he let it he couldn't watch, he wouldn't see.

And what there was to see. Face half-pushed into Pippin's shoulder, Frodo sobbed between them, trembling like a leaf in wind as if he were fighting against the pleasure. Pippin kissed his brow open-mouthed, and when Frodo's dampening curls fell away from the round scar at the back of his neck Merry kissed it, feeling Frodo stiffen and shake. "Let us, Frodo," he murmured in Frodo's ear, and licked the point and kissed it. "Let us, let us have you. We love you. We---" Merry's words broke on a moan when Pippin brushed his side with his foot-fur, but a smile flickered across Frodo's face; he pushed back, and the smile dissolved into a cry, and Merry heard himself moaning with the fire building and crackling in him, between them all. Still, he kept his eyes open, kept them on Frodo and Pippin's faces as Pippin's hands tangled in both their hair and he bucked against them, as Merry moved them, thrusting forward, as Frodo's face crumpled into ecstasy and he peaked as if he'd shatter, as if he'd explode.

Merry felt it, clutching and fluttering round him, and watched Pippin feel it and buck harder, and just managed to see Pippin scream even as Frodo's face smoothed to peace, before the fire blazed across his sight and his own peak clenched within him and burst forth, knocking the breath from his lungs and the sense clean out of his head in an overflowing rush of joy.

 

*^*

_Come my lads, let us be jolly_  
Drive away all melancholy  
To be sad, it would be folly  
When we're met together...

It was a mellow old song, learned over a long-ago pint and sung over many more with not a few of his fellow hobbits, but why it echoed through his head as he stood on sand fine as sugar, watching gulls swoop and dive between blue sea and bluer sky, Frodo had no idea. He just knew that he hummed, and the gulls soared, and somehow so did his heart.

_Let union be in all our hearts_  
Let union join our hearts as one  
We'll end the day as we've begun  
We'll end it all in pleasure...

A loop of song winding through his head, gull's cries fading in his passing dream, Frodo woke to the feel of something hard and round beneath his hip. He lay between his soundly-sleeping cousins, Merry pressed to his back and Pippin curved to his front; the candles had burned out, and the morning was barely grey beyond the window, even the birds still silent. Disentangling his hand from Pippin's hair to reach down, Frodo fished out the butter-dish, fortunately empty, but then the butter was all over them and the sheets anyway.

Tossing the butter-dish to the foot of the bed and drawing the covers up over them, Frodo closed his eyes, but was unsurprised when sleep didn't return. Merry shifted, draping his arm across Frodo's chest, and Pippin pressed his nose into his hair, and he smiled and let them warm him, humming quietly. His best cousins, who had set out once more to face peril with him, even if only the peril of Sam's wedding night. They'd wanted so to cheer him; Frodo laid his hand on Pippin's still too-prominent ribs, stroking over muscle and scars and bone, and thought of Pippin's earnest eyes and laughing mouth as he sang and danced on the table, Merry amusingly feigning anger and making a show of Pippin's pleasure all for his benefit. Frodo hoped they felt themselves successful; in truth, he was happier this night than he'd been, well, in quite a long time. The dearest hobbit in his life had his heart's desire; how could he be else than happy?

Of course, if his dear cousins were so insistent on tucking him between them, he would hardly say them nay. Smiling at that thought, and enjoying the feel of a smile, Frodo stretched slowly and sat up, wondering which of them he could climb over without waking and if he could dress and go before they caught him. Both thoughts were answered when Merry chuckled sleepily and slid his arm round Frodo's waist. "You're not going anywhere," Merry mumbled, pressing his face to Frodo's side.

"It's early," Pippin muttered, eyes still closed, reaching up, and Frodo gave a little chuckle of surrender and let himself be pushed back down and entwined. "Why are you awake?"

"Frodo thought he'd be up," Merry replied, resting his face on Frodo's belly, draping his long legs over Frodo's. "Why, I do not know."

"Doubtless he wants to get an early start on the road to Crickhollow." That comment would once have made Frodo ache, and it still twinged; Frodo sighed and looked up, as he knew he would, into serious green eyes. "You might come with us, you know. You always may."

"I know." Frodo reached for Pippin's hand, feeling it enfold his own; Merry wrapped his hand round both of theirs as he said, "Ah, Pip, don't you know why Frodo can't come with us? Mistress Rosie would never forgive us if we took either of her lads away."

Some things never changed; Pippin's eyes went round as they ever did, and Frodo smiled to see it. "_Both_ of them, Frodo? Why you, you, you sly dog!" His grin was saucy almost beyond imagining. "Well, you'll be well taken care of, indeed. And, hoy, how did Merry know and I didn't!"

Merry laughed. "Because Frodo confides in _me_," he teased, and Pippin growled and lunged as if he'd climb right over Frodo to attack Merry; turning to catch him, Frodo heard himself laughing before he even felt it. It was a lovely feeling. So was Pippin, wriggling in his arms more for effect than anything else. "Well," Pippin said, winding his legs round Frodo's waist, "I suppose I must forgive you both, but only since you told me now. There are no more secrets you're hiding from me, you two mysterious hobbits?"

Frodo buried his face in Pippin's hair and let Merry answer, "Of course not, Pippin," and smiled as Merry pressed warm and close, leaning over his shoulder to kiss Pippin. Shifting to his back again, Merry and Pippin warm along his sides, Frodo said lightly, "I do think the new couple can spare me for a few days. I was planning to be away; I might as well be away in Crickhollow."

Pippin squeezed him till his ribs nearly cracked. "Oh, we'll have a grand visit! We'll take you round all your old Buckland haunts, and talk long into the night, and tup you till your wits leak out your ears." Frodo chuckled at Pippin's plans, and squeezed him gently back.

"We'll fill you with cheer, and bring you singing home," Merry added, grey eyes shining with hope beyond his insouciant grin, and Frodo smiled and kissed him lightly. "I'd like that," he said, warm and easy in their arms, glad to mean it. "I'd like that indeed."


End file.
